


Wounded Beast

by ChloeWinchester



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Burns, Dark Castle, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWinchester/pseuds/ChloeWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark One is hit with a nasty curse and requires the care of the only person who would ever help him: his maid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wounded Beast

“The least he could do was say something,” Belle grumbled, taking the food from the table and marching it into the kitchen, slamming it down on the counters. “A note, a message, two seconds to poof here and tell me he’d be late, but no… I’m just the help, it’s good exercise for me to do this!”

Her heels clicked and echoed loudly across the floor as she moved each dish back into the kitchen, the empty castle a resounding place for even the smallest noise.

“‘Have my dinner ready when I return, dearie!’” She mocked, mimicking that silly way he spoke. “‘Else I may have to skin you alive!’ Sure you would. Such an evil, horrible man that gives maids libraries, embroidered pillows and clothes.” She scoffed and started scrubbing the table just to give her hands something to do.

“Skin me alive. Can’t even talk to me half the time without getting all…” She gestured wildly with her hands as he tended to do sometimes. “Disappointing, really!” She called, just in case he was, in fact, somewhere in the Dark Castle and he hadn’t bothered to tell her whether he was eating or not. “I thought the Dark One was supposed to be terrifying!”

Suddenly the doors burst open and she jumped, dropping the rag and looking toward them with wide eyes, worried a moment that she had, in fact, actually made him angry and that wrath she’d heard so many legends about.

Rumplestiltskin was there, but he wasn’t angry.

He was hurt.

Belle had thought, or had at least been told, that the Dark One couldn’t be hurt, it wasn’t possible. At the very least he couldn’t die from anything but she had never, ever seen him as he was right now.

Drenched in blood that may have been his own or others, his skin blackened from grime and smoke, his clothes shredded and singed and he was riddled with burns, slumped against the door taking haggard breaths and fighting to stand on his own

“Rumple!”  

She rushed to him, catching him in firm arms and holding him upright. He hissed in pain, tensing from her hands as he usually did when she tried to help him, shaking his head.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” He snapped, shaking her off. He didn’t trust people who touched him willingly, that only ever meant pain. Anyone touching him without true, real cause or already intended harm was trying to hurt him, trying to get him to let his guard down and take advantage of that and he wouldn’t allow it! Not even for this tiny little maid who...who he didn’t understand.

“You aren’t fine, look at you!” She exclaimed, watching him attempt to take a step away from the door, only to plunge toward the floor the moment he tried. She caught him again, lowering the both of them to their knees. “You’re hurt,” she whispered. “I, I thought-”

“It’s a curse, dearie!” He spat, his voice gruff and rattling. “And curses most certainly affect me just as much as everyone else. Only this won’t kill me. Only difference!” His giggle turned into a rough cough. “Now get off.”

“No,” she said firmly, gripping his tattered jacket. His strange eyes turned to hers, bright and dangerous against his dirty skin.

“What?” He said in a low voice. Belle swallowed.

“I said, no,” she repeated, keeping any wavering notes from her voice. “I’m not letting go. I’m...I’m going to help you.” His expression twisted into one of anger, the one he used to disguise how pained he was, or whatever made him so flustered around her sometimes. Before he could tell her off or make her disappear somewhere she cupped his cheek.

The snarl melted away in a second, replaced with a softened blank look of confusion.

“Rumple, please. Let me help you?” She said gently. “I won’t tell anyone or anything, but I...I can’t just walk away.”  He blinked at her and didn’t answer, he simply nodded, not looking at her. “Thank you.”

She helped him up and walked up the large staircase to get to the washroom, where she carefully set him down and immediately started filling the tub. It was bewitched, of course, and water poured into it already warmed, which saved her at least an hour trying to wash herself  and she was all the more grateful for it now.

“Alright, I’ll be careful,” she promised, peeling the coat, tacky with blood, from his shoulders and started working through the layers. The closer she got to bare skin the more she found him shrinking into himself, growing more vulnerable and even...afraid.

“Hey,” she whispered, turning his chin again and looking into his marbled eyes. “I won’t hurt you.” He nodded once, his eyes up but his head was still bent, and it was the most innocent she’d seen him look. She pursed her lips and smoothed his hair back for some assurance and started the rather arduous process of unlacing his boots.

“Don’t try anything, dearie,” he said quietly when she’d started to loosen his trousers, smiling just a little. She chuckled, lifting her eyes to his.

“Well there, you’ve found out my diabolical plot,” she teased, shaking her head a little and missing the blush that formed on his face.

Gently, carefully, she got him bare and into the water, touches respectful, her eyes never straying anywhere that would invade his privacy.

He hissed as the water washed over his injured skin, a green smoke rising from the burns that bubbled from blistered skin once he was submerged and she winced.

“It’s alright,” he grunted. “It’s alright it-” He ground his teeth and hissed, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “It’s fine.”

His breath hitched and he shut his eyes, tense as a wave of pain fell over him and when it passed his muscles unwound enough to relax, eyes closed.

Belle swallowed, settling on her knees beside the tub, watching the water color with red. “What happened to you?” She asked quietly.

“None of your business, now is it, dearie?” He said in his sickly sweet tone, smiling, but it was pained and forced.

“I’m the one cleaning you up, it is my business,” she said, lips pursed. “And you were late for dinner.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, the next time something like this happens I’ll be sure to send a letter first!” He growled, snapping at her but he threw his hand up too high and the bleeding gash on his chest was disturbed. He gasped and dropped his arm, wincing and leaning over to alleviate the stress he caused.

“That’s a sign to be nicer to me,” she quipped after a moment. He pursed his lips and lazily waved his hand.

“I don’t have to be nice to the help,” he remarked cooly. She shook her head.

“I’m a princess first and the help second, and don’t you forget that, Rumplestiltskin,” she said firmly, soaping a rag. He made a face, looking at her.

“Well are you The Dark One first or a spinner?” She asked. He just looked at her. “Exactly. You don’t want people referring to you as ‘the spinner’ and I’d rather not be ‘the help’ if you don’t mind.”

“Maybe I do mind,” he said, attempting to antagonize her. She’d played this game before and she wasn’t about to fall for it. He was hurt and embarrassed that he needed help, that was all.

“Then I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him. “But that’s just how it is. My name is Belle and I know you know that.”

“Belle, Betty, Belinda, what difference does it make to me?” He scoffed, looking at her again, his wicked smile fading seeing that tender look she was giving him again.

“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered. “I’m not going to think you’re...I mean you aren’t…”

“Weak?” He finished after a long pause, his voice very soft, eyes anywhere but her face.

“Yes,” she breathed, gently washing his skin. “I wouldn’t ever think that about you. I know better.”

He sat up a bit, going to speak and try and shut her up, get her false tenderness and care far away from him - he hated liars, why was she talking like that?! However the burns and the poison of the curse clenched around his bones and squeezed, twisting hard, fighting with the black inside of him and losing, but it was still horrifically painful.

He tensed all over and screamed, a short, gruff burst of sound that rattled Belle and she reached for him, cupping his face and trying to understand where his pain was coming from. He tried to weakly swat her away, trying and failing again to speak. When it stopped he released a relieved groan and slumped back, panting.

Belle moved back to him, eyes wide in worry. “Shh…” She soothed, touching his hair when he made a sound of residual pain. “Just, just relax, Rumple, I’m here. It’s okay.”

His brow pinched a little and he opened his eyes, meaning to say something sharp or brush off her kindness but… Belle wasn’t looking at him.

She was very gently, and very diligently, cleaning the blood from his skin. She was mindful of his wounds and the apparent pain in the rest of him, her gaze soft, one hand resting on his arm as if...as it to assure him it was alright. It was...strange.

His skin was rough and hard, like the stones she scrubbed or a crocodile’s maybe. She should be repulsed and shying away, she should be reluctant but she wasn’t.

He gritted his teeth against another wave of pain, shutting his eyes and taking sharp breaths through his nose, very aware of her hand on his shoulder, thumbing his skin to soothe him. “Just breathe, just breathe, it’s alright.”

He nodded his wellness to her, allowing her to go back to what she was doing. She looked...worried for him. But that couldn’t be right. Why would this imprisoned girl care if he were in pain or not? What did she have to gain from that?

But her touch was so soft. And her little fingers left tender caresses from his shoulder back to his arm and stayed there why she cared for him. If she cared for him. He shouldn’t think like that.

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t realized he was staring at Belle until she looked at him and he swallowed, immediately nervous with her bright eyes trained on his face.

Belle smiled softly, soothingly. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” She asked. He shook his head quickly.

“No. No, dearie, you aren’t hurting me,” he whispered. She smiled again and turned back to the wound she was carefully cleaning.

After another wave of that rough pain fatigue settled over him, the heaviness of his limbs too much to fight without adrenaline to help anymore. The throb and ache was rhythmic enough to let his eyes close and a small, flickering ember of trust he had for the girl allowed him to relax. His eyes were half open, his soft sounds of pain real and unmasked, his vulnerability palpable and evident.

Belle was gentle with the burns that already looked less aggressive, the bleeding stopped on what appeared to be slash marks from claws.

She delicately touched a bruise on his hip and he whimpered, jerking a  little and she drew her hand back out of the water immediately, moving to hold his hand instead of his arm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered while he took ragged deep breaths to get through it, eyes squeezed shut.

“Don’t...be…” He said through gritted teeth, squeezing her hand without realizing what he was doing.

Belle carefully sat him up, holding the back of his head to keep him close while she cleaned the soot and grime from his back.

He slumped against her, his chin hooked over her shoulder and he flushed, tensing everywhere. The urge to press his face into her neck and relish that warmth and softness was overwhelming, or to pull away and hiss at her to get the hell away from him.

The Dark One resolved not to move at all, and sort of held his breath. His breaths that did come were short and shallow, and his heart felt so odd when she gave soothing rubs between his shoulders. “It’s alright. It’s alright, just relax. I won’t hurt you.”

He wondered a moment what it would be like if he were alone. He’d likely be stuck at the bottom of the stairs, gasping and fighting all night just to crawl to a bed.

But here with her, with Belle he...he actually felt better.

She let go -and he loathed to be away from her soft honey-scented skin- and carefully washed his face. “Shh…almost done,” she promised, cleaning the blood from his face, wincing at the cut on his forehead that caused it.

“I’m going to wash your hair, is that alright?” He nodded weakly. “Okay now, just...trust me, I won’t hurt you.”

Letting Belle guide his head into the water, cradling his neck and being incredibly careful with him, was a level of trust he hadn’t given anyone in some time. But he was so tired, and so weak he couldn’t fight her even if he wanted to.

What was strange is that he didn’t.

Belle carefully worked the blood from his hair, watching the soap turn pink with it and wash away.

She’d seen Rumple calm before, sitting at his wheel and lost in the repetitive, peaceful process. But to be this relaxed under her hands, his glittery skin catching even more light when wet, hair soft and silken against her palms, was the most surreal thing she’d witnessed in some time. She stopped herself from telling him how beautiful he was.

She pressed her hand against his forehead to signify she was done and helped him sit back up. “There,” she whispered, cupping his chin.

He looked back at her, his strange eyes searching her face for some sign of deception, disgust, pity, amusement. There were none. Belle’s eyes were caring, sincerely concerned for his health and well being, the man who’d imprisoned her and ruined her life. Her kindness was breathtaking.

She helped to dry him off, again keeping her eyes and hands in a modest position and sat him down to bandage the burns and claw marks.

“Bit useless, dearie,” he said softly. “Once this works out there’ll be no point-” He broke off in a hiss. She spread a salve over a burn on his arm and he instinctively jerked his arm away from the pain, growling a little.

“Come now, hold still,” she sighed, chasing him a little and pressing it over the burn and he growled again.

“That hurts!” He barked with energy he didn’t need to spend.

“Well if you’d hold still it wouldn’t hurt as much!” She returned, sitting up on her knees. He sighed and backed down, pouting a little. She rolled her eyes. “There, not so bad now, is it?” She challenged.

“No,” he grumped quietly, not looking at her. Belle stood, smoothing back his damp hair as she stepped away. She brought back a dressing gown hanging on the wall and wrapped it around his shoulders, helping him up to tie it.

“If you aren’t too angry with me, can I help you to bed?” She asked softly, ducking her head to meet his embarrassed eyes. He nodded, having to lean against her just to stay upright and still he swayed with exhaustion.

“Hey.”

He looked at her, finally, the hand on his chin making his insides feel odd again. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

Belle accepted his apology and walked him down the hall toward his bedroom, a place she wasn’t really supposed to be. She wasn’t allowed in there, and going inside was a bit strange.

Most of the furniture was broken, likely from his temper, and it was all piled against the far wall in splinters. The mirror on the wall was covered, like the one downstairs.

The bed, however, was untouched. The wood unscathed, the blankets crisp and utterly perfect. She frowned and looked at him.

“Rumple, do you not sleep?” She asked quietly.

He shrugged. “Not often. Not here. There’s a sofa in my work room I rest on sometimes.”

“First time for everything, then,” she said softly, helping him into bed.

He sighed, shutting his eyes and so grateful for the soft mattress and bedding she tucked around him. He winced, the curses still dueling inside of him, wrecking his energy and making his head throb. He huffed, shutting his eyes tight with a grunt.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay,” she soothed, caressing his forehead and his hair.

His tongue was too heavy, thoughts too muddled to form a question as to why she was there, what she was gaining from treating him like this, but the words wouldn’t come.

He closed his eyes for what felt like a moment and opened them again to find her easing him up enough to swallow the broth she was coaxing into his mouth from a mug.

“I know you don’t need to eat,” she said softly. “Just like you don’t need to sleep and whatever this is won’t kill you, but I think this might help, hm?”

The soft look in his star-flecked eyes made her heart clench, and again she saw _him_. Not some imitation. Not a facade. Just Rumplestiltskin.

He finished the mug and lied down again, shutting his eyes, admittedly feeling much better with a full stomach.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be, Rumple. I’ll check on you-” She’d started to rise and he grabbed her wrist, looking up at her with a soft plea.

“Don’t,” he breathed. “Please, stay.”

He looked so afraid and worried, she couldn’t say no. She sat back down, clasping his hand in both of hers. “Okay,” she nodded. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, petting his hair back to lull him to sleep, which took him in minutes but she didn’t move.

Belle watched him sleep, listened to the rough grunts of pain as it seized him and soothed him through it, making sure he was breathing and that he was alright.

The Dark One woke once from a nightmare, calling for his child and reaching in the dark, finding only her and fell against her shoulder, clinging to her and repeatedly asking in a broken whisper where his son was. Belle understood then why he didn’t sleep.

Eventually her own exhaustion settled and she curled up beside him, still holding his hand and muttering that everything was going to be alright.

Belle drifted off to sleep, knowing full well that tomorrow when this had passed things would go back to normal and his barking tone and giggles would reach her, his orders a little sharper because she’d seen him like this, but she didn’t regret it. She’d never regret helping him when he needed someone.

Who else would make sure the dreaded Rumplestiltskin was cared for?

~*~

Rumple opened his eyes the next morning with his arms around something soft and warm. Heat and a heartbeat settled against his chest and the sweet scent of honey and lavender surrounded him. He smiled to himself, at a quiet, blissful peace.

And then he realized how utterly absurd, wrong and fantastical such feelings were being who he was and opened his eyes.

Belle.

Nestled against him, so peaceful and beautiful in the soft sun filtering through the curtains, diligent at his side as he’d so pathetically asked her to be _-Coward so worthless and pathetic he needs a little girl to make him feel better. Coward so fond of the cute little maid. The Coward doesn’t want to taste her innards and rip her skin between his teeth but I do… I’ll bet her blood tastes as sweet as those little smiles of hers. What does the Coward think?!-_ He clenched his teeth to silent the rough voice of his curse and quickly moved away from the girl, straightening up with dignity and loudly clearing his throat once he was standing and, in a plume of red smoke, dressed properly.

“Wake up, dearie!” He barked, watching her jerk awake with a pang of guilt that showed in his face. He cleared his throat again, trying not to be so taken with how beautiful she looked, her hair down and unwound her cheeks rosy, blinking sleepily at him.

“Oh, you’re alright,” she smiled, sitting up more on the edge of the bed. “I’m so glad. Do you feel alright?”

The words were lost in his throat again, flustered by her and her...her treating him as if he were a person and not a beast.

“I do feel a great deal better than yesterday,” he admitted, walking around the bed to face her. “But there is one thing that would help me feel absolutely giddy.”

She cocked her brow. “What’s that?”

He smirked and gestured toward the door. “If you got the hell out of here and started on breakfast!”

She chuckled and stood, making for the door sleepily and a little clumsily.

She paused in the doorway, turning back and crossing the room to embrace him. “I’m glad you’re alright,” she said softly, relinquishing the hold on his neck and smiling up at him. She’d done that before. And it was odd enough then.

She left again, making her way down the hall.

“Careful not to crease my shirt next time, dearie!” He called, realizing it sounded as if he _expected_ a next time and cursed under his breath for his foolishness.

Belle grinned to herself. “I will be!”

Like he had the last time she hugged him, his face melted into a small smile.

Yes, things went precisely back to normal. However, his tone and demeanor didn’t grow harder. If anything, he was softer to her. Kinder. And the stirrings in her heart started to give way to something...something different. Something that wasn’t there before.


End file.
